


The First Christmas

by Xerxia



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28453275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xerxia/pseuds/Xerxia
Summary: The Everdeens have never celebrated Christmas before…
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	The First Christmas

“I’m worried about Peeta,” Prim says out of the blue. She and Katniss are perhaps ten paces behind Peeta on their early morning trudge to school, watching as Peeta sneaks what he probably thinks are furtive glances towards the square.

It’s been four months since the night Peeta’s mother threw him out of the apartment above the bakery, and he’s adapted to living with the Everdeen women better than any of them imagined. Life in the Seam is far different from a merchant life in town, but Peeta never complains, never seems to miss his previous life at all.

But over the past few days, Katniss too has noticed that on the long walks to school, and back to the Seam, he keeps glancing towards town, where he never used to do so before. 

“Maybe he misses his family,” Katniss muses in a hushed tone. His two brothers come by the small shack in the Seam from time to time to see Peeta, but there hasn’t been a single word from his parents. None of them ever thought Peeta’s presence in their home would be a permanent thing; when they offered him a safe haven from his abusive mother they expected his father would smooth things over in a few days. But it hasn’t happened.

“Hmmm,” Prim hums, matching her quiet tone. “I mean, I’m sure he does. But I don’t think that’s it.” 

“What then?” The snow and cold are making everyone a little grumpier lately, at school and in the Hob there are a lot of frowns, a lot of complaints. The ever-present coal dust stains the snow a sludgy grey, and it’s hard to be happy surrounded by the mess, especially someone like Peeta who has the soul of an artist. But she and Peeta sneak under the fence together on Saturdays when the weather cooperates and the fence is off, and in her woods, winter is actually quite pretty, even if the hunting is terrible. 

Ahead of them, Peeta’s shoulders slump as he reaches the fork where the path turns towards the school. Where his short view of town will disappear again.

“I think,” Prim says carefully, “that maybe he’s sad about Christmas.”

Christmas. Katniss has heard the word before. It was an ancient celebration, held near the solstice. Illegal in Panem now, as all of the old celebrations are, but there are some merchants who talk about it in hushed tones. 

“Why do you think that?” Katniss isn’t even sure when Christmas is, and she’s certain she’s never heard Peeta say the word before. Though they’ve only been dating since the spring, she’s known him forever, they’ve been schoolmates since they were five.

“I think it’s soon. I heard the miller’s son talking about it yesterday during history class.”

“Maybe,” Katniss hedges. “But what can we do about it anyway?”

“We could bring a little bit of Christmas to him,” Prim says, excitement lighting her bright blue eyes. 

“How?” Katniss grumbles. “We know nothing about Christmas.” 

“We’ll find out.” Prim quiets as Peeta realizes how far behind him they are and stops. “Christmas,” Prim murmurs again, then skips ahead, looping her arm through Peeta’s.

Both blondes hold out their free hands towards Katniss, and it makes her laugh, knocking the idea out of her head. She picks up her pace to join them. Peeta wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing a warm kiss to her cold temple, just below the fuzzy edge of her frayed grey hat, and the three finish their walk to school linked together.

But she’s thinking about it again later that evening. Peeta is quiet over dinner, not brooding but not his usual cheerful self. Prim enlists his help to accompany her on a delivery of salve to an injured miner on the far side of the Seam, and Katniss washes up the supper dishes with her mother.

“What do you know about Christmas?” Katniss asks, and though she’s not looking at her mother directly, she can see Mrs. Everdeen tense, the way she always does when Katniss mentions things that are forbidden in the district.

“Not a lot,” she says softly. “My mother’s parents celebrated it, but my father disapproved, so we never did.” Katniss is surprised by the hint of melancholy in her mother’s voice. She doesn’t understand how that sadness can be about her grandparents, the people who disowned their only child, who never even met their granddaughters.

“Prim thinks maybe it’s why Peeta is so sad.” There’s no point beating around the bush, Katniss isn’t interested in discussing her mother’s long lost Merchant life.

Mrs Everdeen nods. “I know Graham celebrated Christmas when we were young. I don’t know about Marissa though,” she says referencing Peeta’s parents. “But I’ve seen Christmas cookies fairly recently that must have come from their bakery.” She pulls her hands from the dishwater that’s gone cold. “Has he mentioned something?”

“No,” Katniss admits. “But you know Peeta. He would never complain.”

“That’s true,” she replies with a gentle smile. Mrs. Everdeen is very fond of Peeta, that much has been clear ever since he started coming to call on Katniss. “You and Prim are thinking about celebrating Christmas, to cheer him up?”

Katniss shrugs, putting the last dry dish away. “Not exactly,” she hedges. “We don’t know anything about it, I think that would be strange. But maybe we could do something small that would remind him of Christmas?”

“Well,” her mother starts, guiding her over to the small, threadbare couch by the potbellied stove. “Christmas was celebrated just after the solstice, on December 25.” Katniss nods, that gives her a little over a week to figure something out. “I don’t know the origins, exactly. But before the dark days, children would hang their stockings by the stove and wait for Father Christmas to fill them.”

“Fill them with what?” Katniss interjects.

“Little presents, if they were good. Coal, if they were bad.”

“The bad kids got coal in their stockings? I think I’d want to be bad.” Coal isn’t cheap, after all, and it’s useful.

Mrs. Everdeen laughs. “The good kids got treats from the sweet shop, or maybe new crayons or a little doll. A lot more exciting for a child than a bag of coal.” Katniss resists the urge to point out that she would have been excited about a bag of coal when she was a kid, in those years when she was keeping their little family together while Mrs. Everdeen wallowed in her misery. But it’s been six years since her father’s death, and she’s trying to let go of that anger.

“So Christmas is just for children?” Katniss doesn’t think Peeta would be so sad about missing out on a new tin whistle or spinning top.

“It was a little different for adults, I think. I don’t remember a lot,” she admits. “There would be a special dinner, a feast really, and decorations. And presents too, I think, if there was enough money.” There is definitely not enough money in the Everdeen household for whatever a Merchant Christmas would look like.

But maybe…

“Will you help me?” Katniss asks, with some reluctance. She loves her mother, but even after all of these years, she finds it difficult to trust her, and almost never asks for her help in anything.

Mrs. Everdeen brightens up. “Yes,” she says. “We’ll have to be careful. But I think we can put together a few things.”

“Where do we start?”

o-o-o

“Chop down a tree?” Prim’s eyes widen incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“That’s what she said,” Katniss sighs. “Apparently it’s a big deal. You chop down an evergreen tree and haul it inside the house, then decorate it with berries and popcorn.”

“That sounds beautiful,” Prim sighs, reminding Katniss that her little sister is still so young and so full of wonder. To Katniss, it just sounds like a lot of work and a waste of food.

“Sure,” Katniss says. She doesn’t have the heart to discourage Prim’s whimsy. “But how am I going to get a tree into the house without Peeta seeing?” It’s hard enough even to find occasions to chat with Prim without Peeta around, but on Mondays and Wednesdays at lunchtime he has wrestling practice. She’s not complaining about his presence, she loves having him around, and so does Prim. Madge had warned her that having Peeta living with her would probably be the end of their relationship, since Katniss was a loner by nature. But the opposite has been true. Having Peeta around all of the time, seeing his constant kindness and compassion, no matter the situation, she’s fallen even more deeply in love with him, and found a well of patience she never knew she possessed.

“I think he’s helping Leevy’s dad tomorrow afternoon for a couple of hours,” Prim says. “If the tree is little enough, we could hide it in our bedroom, then drag it out after Peeta goes to bed.” The timing is just right, he’d wake up on Christmas morning to a decorated tree, and Katniss has plans for the fat turkey she shot yesterday to become the special feast. 

o-o-o

“It looks ridiculous,” Katniss grouses. The tree, though barely a sapling, takes up almost all of the space in their tiny bedroom not already occupied by the two beds. All three Everdeen women share the room, while Peeta sleeps on a pallet in what used to be their summer kitchen. It’s drafty in there, and cold in the winter, but he never complains. 

“I think it’s magical,” Prim sighs around a mouthful of popcorn. The little tree is encircled with strings of the fluffy white stuff, which feels like a colossal waste of food, as well as cranberries, which bothers Katniss less since she’s not fond of the sour red berries anyway. Prim has cut paper dolls and nestled them into the branches too, and their mother has contributed some leftover strands of colourful wool from who knows where, pine cones dangling from the ends. 

Prim is so giddy during dinner that Katniss thinks surely Peeta will suspect something, but he’s quiet and distracted, tired from helping Leevy’s dad patch his roof and wrapped in the melancholy that’s dogged him for a couple of weeks now. Katniss hopes their Christmas surprise will cheer him up. She misses her always positive boyfriend. Her dandelion. 

It takes all three Everdeens to drag the little tree out, tiptoeing past the door to the summer kitchen, where Peeta retired early. They set it in the corner of the living area, wedged between the wall and the mantel, and though the tree isn’t even as tall as Katniss herself, it dominates the small room. 

Mrs Everdeen weaves together the small branches Katniss trimmed from the tree, fashioning a patchy garland she winds along the mantel over the stove. 

Katniss smiles. As silly as this whole exercise is, she can see how it’s going to charm Peeta with his love of whimsy. And Prim’s glowing happiness is a nice side effect. Maybe this Christmas stuff isn’t so bad after all.

She’s still smiling when she and Prim crawl into bed, even though the blankets are full of scratchy bits of popcorn.

o-o-o

She’s awake before dawn, which is typical, she wakes up early even on mornings when she’s not planning to hunt in the forest. But today, Prim is awake too, which is strange, it’s not even a school day. The excitement of Christmas morning, Katniss guesses. The girls whisper beneath their blankets, talking excitedly about Peeta’s surprise, but also about the things they don’t always have private time to chat about. The boys Prim is just starting to notice, the new dress Madge wore to school the day before, the chickens that the blacksmith is raising who always escape their coop. Sister stuff. Being forced to grow up too fast by their father’s death impacted their relationship, forcing Katniss to parent her little sister instead of being a friend. But lately things have been improving. Since Peeta moved in, really. He’s been a ray of sunshine, good tempered and helpful and hopeful, making everything easier in the little Seam shack. And their mom has been more present; Katniss is sure that too is Peeta's influence. 

When finally they hear the door between the summer kitchen and the house creak open on its old hinges, they throw back the blankets and sneak to the bedroom door. 

Peeta is standing very still in the main room, facing the tree. Prim hangs back a bit, but Katniss walks to him, the floor cold even through her socks, and lays a tentative hand on his forearm. 

He turns to face her, eyes shimmering wet. “Katniss,” he gasps. Then he’s pulling her into his arms, enveloping her in the warmth and strength of his embrace. 

“Happy Christmas,” she whispers, and he laughs softly, a broken little sound of pain and pleasure. He presses his lips to her temple, she can feel him smiling. They’re seldom physically affectionate in the house, it just seems disrespectful, but he holds her so tightly on this Christmas morning, his first without his family, and she clings to him. 

“You did all of this for me?” he murmurs against her hair. 

Katniss nods, snuggling more deeply into him, his heart beating under her ear. 

“What are those?” Prim squeaks from beside them. Katniss pulls back just slightly, unwilling to fully relinquish Peeta. It’s been so long since they’ve held each other like this, winter gives them few opportunities to cuddle without an audience. She looks around his broad shoulder, to where Prim is perched on the tips of her toes, like a bird about to take flight. Hanging from the mantel are three socks. “Why are our socks hanging over the stove?”

“Stockings.” Katniss remembers her mother calling them. “But how?”

“Father Christmas, of course.” All three young people turn at Mrs Everdeen’s voice. “You must all have been very good this year.”

Katniss and Prim both look confused, but Peeta smiles broadly. “Father Christmas brings treats for all of the good little girls and boys,” Peeta tells Prim, his smile bright. “He fills their stockings at Christmastime.”

Prim looks as pleased as Katniss has ever seen her, happier even than Peeta. Katniss glances at their mother, who is also smiling widely. Mrs. Everdeen must have snuck out after everyone was asleep and set this up. So that they could all have a special Christmas celebration.

Mrs. Everdeen insists on making tea before they look in their stockings, Katniss and Peeta sit side by side on the faded couch, his arm wrapped around her, the huge smile still resident on his face. Prim flits around, first helping her mother, then darting back to look at the stockings again, back and forth. She’s thirteen now, when Katniss was thirteen she was hunting and taking care of her family, she had no time for frivolity and no appetite for it either. But it’s so nice to see Prim acting like the young girl she is. It warms Katniss’s heart.

“You don’t celebrate Christmas,” Peeta says softly in Katniss’s ear as they watch Prim dance.

“No,” Katniss admits. “But you do.”

Peeta nods. “We weren’t allowed to talk about it. But Father Christmas always came on Christmas, even when it was a school day.” Pain flits across his features, cracking Katniss’s heart. “I miss them,” he admits. “I know I shouldn’t.”

“They’re your parents,” Katniss says simply, and Peeta nods. They’re terrible parents, by all measures. But Katniss knows that he can’t stop loving them, even if she doesn’t fully understand why. 

“I can’t help wondering if there are still three stockings on their mantel,” he whispers. “If they miss me at all.”

Katniss doesn’t have an answer for that, but she shifts to hug him tightly. 

With hot cups of tea and slightly hard biscuits from the day before consumed, Mrs. Everdeen hands each child a stocking. Prim laughs in delight, pulling each surprise from the sock and dancing around the small room to show everyone else. Katniss and Peeta poke through their stockings much more slowly, savouring the experience. Katniss keeps glancing at her mother, who looks happier than Katniss can remember. She hasn’t seen a smile like that since before her father died.

Katniss’s sock contains a stick of peppermint candy, a bottle of liniment for sore muscles, and a new knit hat in bright red wool. Peeta has lemon drops, a little pot of salve for winter-chapped hands and a green knit cap. Prim makes sure everyone gets an up close look at her new blue hat and hair ribbons, the cinnamon candy already consumed. Katniss knows how hard her mother would have had to have worked, to trade for the brightly coloured wool from which she made their new hats, and for the sweets and ribbons. And she’s torn between being horrified at the waste when all of that work could have been traded for things they really need, sugar or paraffin or cooking oil, and being genuinely delighted and touched. 

It’s been so long since she felt like a child, instead of a life-hardened person. So long since she’s seen her mother as a mother, instead of yet another mouth to feed. 

They prepare the holiday meal together, and while it’s not the first time they’re shared cooking duties in the little Seam shack, it might be the most joyful. Peeta tries to teach them a Christmas song, but he can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and the three Everdeen women simply dissolve in peals of laughter when poor Peeta warbles the nonsense phrase fa-la-la-la-la. 

It does nothing to diminish his joy.

The turkey is resting on the sideboard, waiting to be carved, when there’s a tap at the door. Katniss opens it with a big smile which falls when she sees two blond heads filling the frame.

She glances over her shoulder. Peeta has frozen in his table setting, he looks confused, but not unhappy to see his brothers. Katniss ushers the men into the shack which immediately feels crowded with the extra people, and closes the door against the winter wind.

“Came to wish you Merry Christmas, brother,” Brann, the eldest says. “But it looks like you’re already having a celebration.” He glances over at the little tree, the bright garland, and smiles broadly.

“Will you stay for the meal?” Mrs. Everdeen asks softly. “We were just about to begin.”

Katniss wants to protest, what is a feast for 4 will be much less adequate for six. But the way Peeta’s eyes light up so hopefully, she bites her tongue.

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Rye says, but there’s a questioning lilt to his voice.

Prim, clearly also having read Peeta’s expression, jumps in. “Please stay,” she says brightly. “The more the merrier!” She’s tugging at their jackets before they’ve even agreed, leaving them little choice. Katniss bites back a smile. Prim’s jolly mood is infectious.

Brann extracts a small lump wrapped in a bit of bakery paper from his pocket before Prim takes his coat. He places it in Peeta’s hand. “Merry Christmas,” he says softly, before tugging his little brother into a hug. Rye joins, and Katniss glances away, giving the young men some bare semblance of privacy.

She has, in the past, resented Peeta’s brothers for not doing more to help him, for living their cushy merchant life while Peeta sleeps on a wood pallet far from the stove. But she knows that’s unfair, that Brann and Rye love their brother endlessly but are powerless to change things.

Peeta’s eyes are wet when the three Mellarks break apart, but his smile is as bright and wide as Katniss has ever seen.

It’s a tight fit to squeeze six people around the tiny kitchen table and there aren’t enough chairs, but Peeta perches on the stepladder and Rye balances on a wooden crate. There is more than enough for everyone, and the tiny shack fills with laughter and stories, Peeta and his brothers trading tales of holidays past, of delights left by father Christmas, of hiding Christmas cookies when the peacekeepers came by. It’s one of the nicest evenings Katniss can remember, and she finds herself thinking maybe there is something to this Christmas stuff, this celebration that has nothing to do with Panem and everything to do with family and community.

Peeta’s brothers can’t linger after the meal, their mother will doubtless be angry they’ve been gone as long as they have. The bakery is closed in the evenings, but there are always floors to mop and hearths to sweep and grievances to listen to.

Even cleaning up is lighthearted and fun, the festive feeling stretching into the mundane chores of packing up leftovers and washing the dishes. 

When they’re done, Peeta gathers them back around the table and produces the little paper-wrapped lump his brother had given him earlier. Inside is a ball, nearly black and a little lumpy. Katniss wrinkles her nose and avoids mentioning that it smells like old man Abernathy. 

“What is it?” Prim asks, her voice reverent, understanding that the unfamiliar blob is somehow important to Peeta.

“It’s called plum pudding,” he says softly, smiling. “Our traditional Christmas dessert. Will you all share it with me?”

The lump is small, and Katniss is worried just the fumes will make them drunk. But she pulls out four plates anyway while Mrs. Everdeen freshens their tea. To her surprise, when Peeta cuts into it, it’s full of fruit and nuts. Instantly, she’s transported to a cold April morning, years ago. To a kind little boy who saved her life. The start of a friendship that became so much more. 

Katniss glances at Peeta, and finds him smiling warmly at her. She can think of that day now without anger, without anguish, because of Peeta. Because of the years of goodness she’s witnessed, the hundreds of acts of kindness he’s done not just for her, but for anyone he encounters. He makes her see the world differently. He makes everything good again, even in the midst of District Twelve, and even when his own situation is so cruelly unfair. 

“There are no plums!” Prim says, interrupting her musing. Katniss inspects the cake-like lump. Raisins, nuts and currants, and what looks like orange peel.

Peeta laughs. “There never are,” he says. 

“I could get you plums, next year I mean.” There’s an ancient plum tree, not far from her father’s lake. It never produces more than a handful of purple fruit, so Katniss seldom bothers with it. But if it’s important to Peeta, she’ll pay more attention next summer. 

Peeta beams at her. “No, I mean it isn’t made with plums. Just raisins, currants and candied peel.”

“Then why do they call it plum pudding?” Prim says, nose wrinkled. “It’s not pudding, and there are no plums.”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Peeta admits. “It’s a very old recipe.”

Katniss takes a small bite. It’s… not great. The cake makes her think of illnesses, sweet like sleep syrup and burning like the white liquor their mother gives them for coughs. 

“Not a fan, love?” Peeta says softly. He never calls her that pet name in front of anyone else, but something about the festive magic has made him a little less cautious. Or maybe it’s just his happiness overflowing.

She shrugs. She’s not keen on offending him, but she doesn’t think she can choke down a whole piece of the cake, however small it might be. Peeta seems to be enjoying it though, so she slides her plate in front of him with a grin. 

“Katniss doesn’t like sweets,” Prim interjects, and she’s not wrong. Given the choice, Katniss would always choose the more savoury treats, though she did like the taste of chocolate Peeta snuck out of the bakery for her once, years ago.

“That’s because she’s sweet enough already,” Peeta teases, and all four of them laugh. Only Peeta would ever describe Katniss as sweet. ‘Prickly’ is a far more common adjective.

Mrs. Everdeen leaves the children to finish their cake and bundles up in her heaviest coat. “I have to check on Molly Birch’s new baby,” she explains. “I won’t be long.” It’s only a two minute walk to where the Birch family lives in a little Seam shack identical to the Everdeen home, so she waves off Peeta’s offer of accompaniment.

Prim, in an act of kindness so very fitting her sweet temperament, announces that she’s got homework and takes a candle into the bedroom. Katniss knows Prim doesn’t have any pressing work, expects she’ll probably lie under the blankets and read from the plant book. She’s just giving Katniss and Peeta a few precious minutes of privacy. 

Normally it would embarrass Katniss, the implication that she and Peeta might need alone time, but today she’s just grateful. He opens his arms and she walks right into them. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, lips brushing against her neck. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“So far,” Katniss whispers. She’s not one for fantasizing about the future, especially when there is still one more reaping to get through. But that it will include Peeta is a given. She used to be afraid of love, afraid of losing herself, like her mother did. But not anymore. Not with Peeta by her side.

Peeta sighs, a soft, satisfied little noise, then pulls back just slightly. Katniss scowls, but he merely grins. “There is one tradition you forgot,” he says, but his mischievous expression takes away any sting to his words. There is always fun in an expression like that.

“Oh?” Katniss says, returning his smile. 

He pulls from his pocket a small ball of greenery with tiny white berries. Katniss knows what it is, some of the bolder merchant boys hang them around the school, hoping to catch merchant girls unaware. Mistletoe. 

She laughs, but softly, so as not to disturb Prim. The walls in the shack are paper thin. Peeta nods, eyes twinkling, then lifts the little weed above her head, and bends to kiss her soundly.


End file.
